Beautiful Contrast
by Book Light
Summary: "Because she's the princess and he is a monster. If she is a flower, he is the beast. She is white and he is black." When Yuri resigns himself to distance, Estelle shows him the beauty of contrast. (A Yuri x Estelle oneshot)


"_My__ eyes are tempted by the smile of an angel, and your lips whisper secrets of forbidden love.__" - Anonymous_

There she is, dancing in the sea of flowers. Her delicate arms are outstretched at her sides, as if she were trying to embrace the whole world. Then she falls, laughing as the earth catches her lovingly.

She bathes in sunlight – basks in it – like she too was a flower who needed the sun. With her pink tresses and dream-like grace, it would not be so hard to believe especially when she sat on her heels, her skirts billowing out like petals fully blossomed.

Indeed, this princess of the fairytales is a flower: A flower who rejoiced in the light and looked down when it rained. She is a flower who could be crushed under his weighted boot; whose fine white petals could be tainted with the smallest drop of red.

This flower was not meant for his bloodied hands.

If he were thinking at all, he would distance himself from her. And yet, his name on her lips was as compelling and immediate as instinct. There was a small voice inside (that was not reason) him that kept telling him she was his only redemption.

"Yuri!" she calls out to him, one hand excitedly flailing in the air. Her voice is bright and pure and she doesn't know how easily she undoes him with just the sound of it.

"Estelle," he calls back, her name prickling his tongue as it leaves his mouth. This burning sensation, this small sweet pain, is a constant reminder of the distance between them. The distance created neither by feet nor meters but by disparity. Because she's the princess and he is a monster. If she is a flower, he is the beast. She is white and he is black.

Nevertheless, he walks to her side because reason has already been discarded ever since that fateful encounter in the palace. She waits for him, seemingly rooted on the spot. He selfishly wishes he'd be the only one who could dig this flower up just as he was the one who stole her from the castle.

Then he has to remind himself as he has had to time and time again: she would wither in his hands.

Yuri comes to a stop, an arm's length away from Estelle. Her green eyes lift to meet his black ones, sparking a smile on both of their faces. Whereas hers is one of uninhibited joy, his was reluctant and tiny bit afraid.

"The sea is just below this cliff, Yuri. Let's go." She moves to take his hand, more reflex than anything. Yuri draws back instantly and hides his hand (the one not holding his sword) behind his neck to feign nonchalance. But Estelle picks up on this.

"… Yuri?" she asks, a thousand questions in those two syllables. Hurt, worry and other feelings clash which is apparent by the expression on her face. But, because she's Estelle, worry dominates over everything.

She looks up to him and he knows she's trying to read his face. Yuri has always been proud of his poker face but the intensity of her gaze has him worried it will crumble before her. It is this slightest hesitance in him that allows Estelle to break through and he sees realization dawn in her green eyes.

"I can't… bear to hold you with these hands, Estelle."

The wind blows behind Yuri, into the open sea. While it knocks back Estelle's blushing locks behind her, it leads Yuri's long hair towards her spilled ink. Below them, the sea roars as the waves crashes against the cliff's side.

"Do you know what makes paintings so beautiful, Yuri? What makes them 'paintings'?" she asks; out of the sky, out of the sea – out of the blue. "It's the colors. Without it, it would be just a cold, empty canvas."

"Estelle…"

"You believe in my innocence, Yuri. You think I'm breakable. Too strongly, in fact, that you might as well be putting me in a cage. You are taking away what you've wanted to give me all along: choice. The way you distance yourself from me now, that's you deciding what I can't and what I shouldn't want. You told me that I should be free to choose; that I should see the world beyond those castle walls."

She looks squarely into his depthless eyes with fire, passion and something more. Zaphias' princess takes a step toward him and then another. "Yuri, I choose to be with you. I feel, that the only way I can learn about this world more and more is when I am at your side. Didn't you say you felt the same way too?"

She takes Yuri's calloused hand and places it upon her smooth cheek. Yuri, in turn, marvels at the contrast: his hand and her flushed cheeks, his ebony strands against the clean white of her dress. Lovely is this contrast.

"Believe in me. Paint me, Yuri. Paint me in your colors. Show me what the world looks like."

His mental restraints clink on the floor at the mention of his name. In a burst of a second, Yuri embraces Estelle with shaking, tentative hands. He tosses his poker face on the floor and buries his face into her hair. It is easy to melt into him. Ever since he cut himself purposely and bled for her, she's wanted to be held and hold him. She feels his arms grow firmer by the second around her. His sword rest at her back, ready to protect her from any evil even if it meant herself. Just how she likes it, how she treasures him.

On the other hand, Yuri is at a loss. This is what she wants, he thinks, but that's an excuse. Part of him wonders whether it was alright to take the things he wants, to have what he's always wanted despite his tainted self. While the other part of him can't stop thinking, no, thanking the gods or whoever was up there. But mostly, he was thinking how perfectly she fit into him.

It is calm and buzzing and tingling and reassuring all at once.

Beyond that, he _feels _the blood flowing under his skin, in his veins He never knew that the _red _flowing in him could be so gentle. The warmth of his hand - or maybe, the warmth of her cheeks - spreads and jumbles, creating a different kind of heat between them altogether. It conveys a secret – this heat does – between them. It is the end and the beginning: three words, a dozen colors and emotions, and a thousand infinities.

There, in the cradle of the man who treasures her the most, the flower had been reborn. No longer was she as ephemeral as a rose for between them were the world's colors, ready to evolve into a masterpiece.

_Black and red; White and pink._

_The End._

_A/N: Gahd. This has to be the fluffiest story I've ever written. I REGRET NOTHING. _

_I've been toying with this idea for years now. Ever since I saw the scene between Yuri and Estelle after he falls from Zaude. The part where Estelle hugs him and Yuri's hands are hanging in the air and I'm going "JUST HUG HER BACK, DAMN IT." (You being so emo is your punishment, Yuri) I've got two pictures too pinned on my wall that serve as an inspiration._

_Mind you, I haven't played the game in what feels like forever. I was just having feels when I saw the colored Alter's 1/8 figure for Estelle. It's sad when you're broke. But at least I got to write this fluffy fluffy oneshot. Teehee._

_I went a bit Little Prince and Allen (from Harvest Moon: A New Beginning) by the end. Guess a hang over from the other story I am working on. _

_Do this little girl a favor and review please! Thank you!_

_*insert disclaimer here*_


End file.
